


Hearts Gonna Drop

by fiddleyoumust



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 12:19:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiddleyoumust/pseuds/fiddleyoumust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Nick spending the evening together at G.A.Y. and Liam's birthday party. This was supposed to be about blowjobs, but somehow it ended up being about feelings too. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts Gonna Drop

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Erica for the beta and Ness for the britpick. Any remaining mistakes are because I don't listen.

Harry collapses on the sofa, laughing and out of breath. The room looks like a cereal box exploded all over it, which Harry supposes is a bit of what happened.

Rita picks a piece of cereal up off the floor where she’s crashed in her own state of breathlessness and pops it into her mouth.

“Heathen,” Nick says.

He drops down next to Harry on the sofa and starts picking pieces of cereal out of Harry’s curls.  
Harry nuzzles into his hand a bit and Nick ends up cupping the side of his cheek and kissing the top of his head. The gesture makes Harry feel warm all over, warmer even than he feels from the shots he’s been slamming all night.

Nick laughs against Harry’s head and he can feel Nick’s breath moving the strands a bit. He likes the way it ghosts over the sweat on his neck and makes him feel cool and hot all at once.

“I’m a bit pissed,” Harry mumbles.

Nick gets up and fetches Harry a bottle of water, which Harry takes gratefully and drinks down in giant swallows that hurt his throat and chest.

“Shall I take you home?” Nick asks.

Harry’s phone buzzes insistently in his pocket. It’s been buzzing all night. Harry doesn’t remember the last time his phone wasn’t buzzing, if he’s being completely honest with himself.

“I really do have to make an appearance at Liam’s party,” Harry says.

Nick wrinkles his nose and says, “Love, you are well and truly drunk. I think sleep is what you’ve really got to be doing.”

Harry thinks longingly about sleep. Sometimes he misses it. It's not like he can’t sleep. It’s not like he’s forced out every night, but Harry can’t stand the thought of missing something while he's unconscious. Every day he wakes up and remembers how incredible it is that he’s here and that he gets to do all these amazing things. He doesn’t want to waste a minute on something as mundane as sleep.

“Niall says Louis and Zayn aren’t coming. I really do have to go. Liam’ll be disappointed.”

Nick nods, holds his hand out, and says, “Up then. I’ll get us a cab.”

“You’re coming with?” Harry asks.

Nick gives him one of his massive, cheesy grins and asks, “Where else would I be going?”

Rita lifts herself up off the floor and says, “Sure. Sure. Leave this mess for someone else to clean up. You lot are lucky you’re so lovely or else no one would put up with you.”

Harry gives her a cheeky grin and follows Nick out of the club on wobbly legs.

Outside, Nick gets them a taxi and gives the driver directions to Funky Buddha. Harry rolls his window down so he can feel the warm breeze blow through his sweaty hair. Nick reaches across the back seat and rests his hand on top of Harry’s. 

It’s warm out tonight. Harry doesn’t know if it’s the heat, the alcohol still rolling through his blood stream, or Nick that’s making him feel light headed. Whatever it is, Harry kind of likes it. He rests his head on his arm, half in and half out of the car, and tries to hide his smile against it as the cab rolls away from the curb.

There are paparazzi at the club, a fact of life that Harry has finally come to expect, but it’s something he knows Nick is still trying to get used to.

“Why don’t you go in first?” Harry suggests. “They probably won’t pay attention to you unless we’re together.”

“Yes, yes,” Nick says. “You’re a famous pop star. We’re all very aware.”

“Shut up,” Harry says, blushing and burying his face against Nick’s arm.

“Give us a kiss,” Nick says, and Harry leans up and kisses him.

It’s still new and strange and thrilling in all the ways new relationships are. Harry just wants to be touching Nick all the time, now that he knows he can. It’s so strange to think he and Nick were casual friends only a few months ago and now Harry can barely go a few minutes without thinking about him.

When they break apart Nick studies Harry’s face for a moment before he says, “You really are ridiculously beautiful, but your hair’s a mess, love.”

With that, Nick slides out of the cab and starts walking up the street toward the club. Harry pays the driver, tipping him generously for putting up with them, and brushes his fingers through his unruly hair before he follows Nick up the road into the club.

Once inside, Harry greets everyone with a hug. He catches up with Liam and loses track of Nick almost immediately, but he doesn't mind. One of the things Harry loves most about Nick is all the ways in which he can’t be contained. Nick likes mingling and talking even more than Harry does. But he always finds his way back to Harry’s side eventually.

Liam launches into a story about his bowling party and Harry wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t rib him about it a bit. They get into a heated debate about whether or not bowling is still cool when you’re nineteen.

“Not sure it’s ever been cool,” Harry says.

Liam pouts, but Harry knows it’s all for show. Liam’s always been about as cool as bowling, and Harry knows better than anyone else at the party that it’s something Liam’s comfortable with now. He’s not cool and it’s okay. 

Niall appears out of the crowd and grabs Harry around the waist, squeezing him and sloshing a bit of his beer over Harry’s chest and his own arm.

“What’d I miss?” he asks.

“Harry was just insulting my bowling party,” Liam says.

“I wouldn’t,” Harry denies. He leans down and licks some of the beer off of Niall's arm.

“You’re disgusting,” Niall says.

“You didn’t bring me one. Serves you right.”

“Nick’s holding your drink hostage,” Niall says. “He sent me to fetch you.”

Harry scans the bar and sees Nick sitting on a bar stool talking to Paul and Andy. He figures he ought to go save Nick from Andy before Andy says something offensive and gets Nick in a strop.

“I'd better go rescue him anyway,” Harry says.

Niall leans in close and says, “Such a good boyfriend.”

Harry feels his cheeks heat and his chest grow a little tighter as his heart thump-thump-thumps. He still can’t believe he’s someone’s boyfriend. That he's Nick’s boyfriend.

Harry pushes his way through throngs of people, stopping here and there to say hello and take a few pictures with people who ask. It takes him ten minutes before he’s finally able to shove his way between Andy and Nick. Nick rubs his palm over the dip in Harry’s back, just a quick pass, but it’s enough to make Harry smile. Nick always finds small ways of making Harry feel like he’s wanted. 

“Have a drink, love,” Nick says, sliding a glass of something rich and amber-looking across the bar.

Harry sniffs it, recognizing the sweet scent of whiskey before he throws the drink back. “Thanks,” he says.

The liquor makes Harry’s voice sound deeper and rougher than usual. He likes the way Nick reacts to the change, the way his pupils get a bit larger and his neck flushes with color. He leans in close to Nick with every intention of whispering something filthy in Nick’s ear before he remembers there are cameras and camera phones everywhere, and that while Harry doesn’t particularly care what people think about his relationship with Nick, it’s better for everyone – but especially for Harry’s career – if he at least tries to be discreet.

Harry pulls back rather abruptly and shoots Nick an apologetic look. Nick shrugs, rubbing his thumb over the top of Harry’s hand -- a nonverbal way of letting Harry know he isn’t taking it personally.

Nick pulls out his mobile and taps out a text message without ever breaking eye contact with Harry. Harry’s phone buzzes in his back pocket. He smiles at Nick and pulls it out to read the text.

_You sound as though you’ve just given a blowjob_

Harry bites down on his bottom lip and tries not to smile as he types his reply.

_Not sure if it’s quite the same. Take me home and we can test it out._

Nick quirks an eyebrow and orders them another round of drinks before he closes their tab. Harry slams this one too, eager to say his goodbyes and get Nick somewhere more private.

“What’s the hurry, love?” Nick asks, taking his time with his own drink. 

Harry laughs loudly, startling himself, because Nick has reclined against the bar and started sucking slowly on an ice cube. Then Andy pops up behind Nick and looks between them, rolling his eyes.

“Do I want to know what’s so funny?” he asks.

“Probably not, mate,” Nick says without taking his eyes off of Harry.

Harry feels a really good pull down low in his belly. He wants a bed – any flat surface really. He wants to be somewhere Nick can spread him out and do all the things Harry knows he wants to do just from the way Nick is dragging his eyes over Harry’s body.

“Definitely not,” Harry agrees.

Andy wrinkles his nose and says, “Get a room.”

“That is an excellent suggestion,” Harry says pointedly.

Nick laughs but he finally swallows down the last of his drink and stands up.

“I’ll go first again, I suppose. Leave you to say your goodbyes.”

“I’m off, mate,” Harry says when he’s made his way back through the bar and got Liam’s attention. He pulls Liam in and they hug for a long moment while Harry wishes him a happy birthday. 

Niall comes up from behind again -- a good deal drunker than he was the last time Harry saw him – and drapes himself against Harry’s back. He says dramatically, “Don’t leave us.”

Harry finally lets go of Liam and twists around to squeeze Niall quickly.

“I’ll see you lads tomorrow,” he says with a grin. 

Harry is momentarily blinded by the flash of cameras when he exits the club, but thankfully the paparazzi don’t follow him very far. He finds Nick leaning against the door to a closed shop down the road, a good distance from the spying lenses of the cameras.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Harry says. 

Nick wraps a hand around Harry’s wrist and pulls him in a bit closer. He leans in to kiss Harry’s jaw, making Harry huff out a frustrated breath.

“You’re a tease,” Harry says.

“Shall I blow you right here?” Nick asks. “Take you on the street with all those cameras just down the way?”

Harry’s breath catches tightly in his chest. He does want that. He wants to feel Nick’s mouth on him here and now. He wants the thrill – wants to feel the race of Nick's pulse and his own at just the chance that they might get caught out here in the open. But a more rational part of his mind reminds him that a sex scandal wouldn't affect only his life. Harry’s got loads of other people who depend on him now. 

“Best not,” Harry says, but he must fail to hide all of his disappointment because Nick laughs against his throat and says, “Adulthood isn’t all it’s made out to be, is it?”

Harry doesn't answer. He only runs his knuckles up the zip of Nick’s trousers, reminding them both that it does have some advantages.

“Let’s get a taxi, yeah?” Nick suggests. 

Harry leans against the shop window and lets Nick deal with the taxi. Then in the back seat, in the dark, Harry sits close to Nick and slides his palm up and down Nick’s thigh, moving ever closer to the growing bulge beneath Nick’s zipper. 

Nick, ever the tease, just lays his palm against Harry’s denim-covered cock. He doesn’t squeeze or rub or apply any pressure at all. He just lets his hand rest there like a promise he may or may not keep.

“You’re horrible,” Harry slurs.

“You love me,” Nick says.

Harry’s heart feels too big. He wants to swing his leg over Nick’s lap, straddle him, kiss him until neither one of them can breathe. He wants this taxi to move faster down the street, to speed up the way his pulse speeds up whenever Nick looks at him like this – like he could just eat Harry up.

“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” Harry says. “I know it wasn’t really your scene.”

“I have a scene?” Nick asks, smiling. He takes Harry’s hand and rubs his thumb back and forth over Harry’s knuckles.

“You know what I mean,” Harry says.

Nick hums.

“This might shock you to hear,” he says, “but I like being with you no matter the scene.”

Harry leans his head on Nick’s shoulder and breathes in the smell of his cologne and his laundry detergent and the lingering smell of cigarettes and booze that followed them out of the bar.

When the cab pulls up to Nick’s building Harry stumbles out and leaves the fare to Nick this time. He waves at the concierge, who acknowledges him with a small smile and a quiet, “Mr. Styles.” 

When they get inside, both lifts are running, so Harry pushes the button once and then three more times.

“Anxious?” Nick asks, wrapping an arm around Harry from behind as he leans in to talk into his ear.

Harry is, but he finds himself leaning back and settling against Nick’s chest while they wait for the lift to arrive. His skin feels tingly and hot and his muscles jump under the tips of Nick’s fingers as he strokes them under Harry’s shirt and over abs. Harry's been half hard since they slid into the taxi half an hour ago, but Nick’s touch suddenly makes everything feel more urgent. 

Harry feels like they’ve been waiting for the lift forever when it finally arrives and he almost surges forward as soon as the doors open.

Nick pulls him back a bit to let the couple coming off the lift move past them. The woman smiles at Harry so he smiles back and says hello.

“Hello, luv,” she says, giving him a wink as she reaches for her husband’s hand.

Harry takes Nick’s hand in turn and pulls him into the lift. As soon as the doors close he pushes Nick against one of the walls and kisses down Nick’s throat with a hot open mouth. 

“You’re so popular,” Nick says. “Must be so difficult knowing everyone wants you. Apparently you’ve even got the middle-aged married woman from the 3rd floor swooning over you.”

It’s an old joke between them. It’s an old joke altogether. Harry’s reputation has always been a bit grander than the reality of his life. People generally like Harry, but Harry’s always been more concerned about specific people liking him in specific ways. Nick is one of those people.

“But the real question is,” Harry says, “does the middle-aged man from the 5th floor swoon over me?”

Nick glares and says, “I’m _twenty-eight_ , but yes. Consider me well swooned.”

He pulls Harry in for a proper kiss and Harry gets lost in it all – Nick’s mouth hot against his and their tongues slick against each other. Harry only comes back to himself when Nick nips sharply at his bottom lip just before the lift doors open, letting in cool air from the hallway. Nick nudges Harry to get him moving and takes Harry’s hand again as they walk the short distance to Nick’s flat. Once Nick has let them in, he deposits his key on a hook by the door.

“We should get you one of those,” he says. 

They haven’t talked about anything that serious yet, but Harry hasn’t slept anywhere else in over two weeks. It’s only partly because he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. Harry's been looking for a place for over a month, but nothing has felt quite right yet. Still, it feels like they should probably have some kind of talk about Harry’s constant presence in Nick’s flat.

“You want me to have a key?” Harry asks.

Nick gives him a fond smile and pulls him close again. “It makes sense that you should be able to come and go as you please.”

He sounds so casual about it – like it’s something he does with all of his friends – and maybe it is, but it makes Harry feel special and wanted and something else that he’s still too scared to think about fully. 

Harry kisses the corner of Nick's mouth instead, moving on to his chin and his throat, before he drops to his knees and starts unbuckling Nick’s belt. Nick cups his cheek and Harry nuzzles into his hand, kissing Nick’s wrist while he makes quick work of the zipper on his trousers.

“If I’d known I’d get this reaction, I would have given you a key a long time ago,” Nick says.

Harry laughs against Nick’s hip and then bites him in retaliation. He mutters, “You can have this anytime, you twat,” and then slides Nick’s trousers and pants down just far enough to get at his cock and prove his point.

Nick is fully hard already and Harry takes a moment to feel smug that just the little bit of teasing they’ve done was enough to get him this worked up. Harry runs a knuckle up the length of Nick’s cock and licks at the drop of precome at the head, enjoying the way Nick sucks a breath in through his teeth and rests his hand on top of Harry’s head. He goes down on him slowly, licking up the length with the flat of his tongue and letting spit pool in his mouth before he takes him all the way down. 

Harry moans when Nick threads his fingers through Harry’s hair. He tugs and it feels good, making Harry feel grounded – wanted. Harry digs his fingers sharply into Nick’s hips for another point of connection – Nick’s fingers and Harry’s fingers and Nick’s cock – before he settles back onto his heels and leans his head back to let Nick know he can go harder if he wants. 

Nick moves his hand to the back of Harry’s head and cups his other under Harry’s chin, fucking easily into Harry’s mouth until Harry’s gagging from it.

“Easy, love,” Nick coos. His voice is like a hot drink on a cold day, and it warms Harry up from the inside.

Harry closes his eyes and concentrates on opening his throat, on breathing through his nose when he can, on the way Nick touches him almost reverently, like Harry is precious and loved.

It doesn’t take too long for Nick’s thrusts to get sloppy. Everything is wet and slick. There’s spit running down Harry’s neck now and it should be gross, but it just makes Harry feel accomplished. He feels wanted.

Harry opens his eyes when Nick runs a thumb softly across his cheek.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says. “You have to know that.”

Harry doesn’t care about being beautiful. He doesn’t care about being on the cover of Top of the Pops or on Sugarscape’s most eligible bachelor’s list. He wants someone who can see past all of that. He wants someone who wants him for more than the band he’s in, or what they think he can do for them. He wants someone to call him when he’s away too long, to miss him, to welcome him home. 

He wants Nick. 

Harry pulls off and says breathlessly, “Not in my mouth.”

He takes Nick in his hand and works him fast and hard, savoring the way Nick’s fingers pull at his hair. He revels in the way Nick trembles when he finally comes, his spunk splashing hot over Harry’s cheeks and lips. 

Harry feels good when it's over, better when Nick drops to his knees and kisses across Harry’s face getting both of them messy. Harry’s erection is a dull ache in his trousers, persistent but not urgent. He kisses Nick slowly and sloppily, twisting his fingers in the ends of Nick’s hair.

Harry hasn’t told Nick he loves him, but he does. Since X-Factor, the number of people Harry has met whom he feels he can trust to accept him as he is has gotten smaller and smaller, but with Nick it felt instantaneous. Harry’s never felt wary with Nick – never felt like Nick has some ulterior motive for wanting him.

The words are there, always, in the back of Harry's throat, but he's too afraid to let his mouth bring them to life.

“Were you serious about the key?” Harry asks instead.

Nick kisses him again, a soft press of lips.

“I want you here,” he says. “Whenever you want. All the time.”

Harry wonders if maybe Nick’s got his own words trapped somewhere inside him. Nick’s never said them either, but Harry thinks he hears them all the same.


End file.
